He was considered one of the first great english authors, as well as, the father of english literature.
He was very fortunate throughout his life even though he was not of noble birth because of his fame for writing.
He was captured in the hundred years war but because of his fame the king paid the ransom for his return.
He spent most of his life living off pensions so he could spend most of his time writing.
His most famous work was the Canterbury Tales which was written in middle English
The Squire
With him there was his son, a youthful squire,
A lover and a lusty bachelor, With locks well curled, as if they’d laid in press. Some twenty years of age he was, I guess. In stature he was of an average length,(5) Wondrously active, aye, and great of strength. He’d ridden sometime with the cavalry In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardy, And borne him well within that little space In hope to win thereby his lady’s grace. Embroidered was he, like a meadow bed All full of freshest flowers, white and red. Singing he was, or fluting, all the day; He was as fresh as is the month of May. Short was his gown, with sleeves both long and wide. Well could he sit on horse, and fairly ride. He could make songs and words thereto indite, Joust, and dance too, as well as sketch and write. So hot he loved that, while night told her tale, He slept no more than does a nightingale. Courteous he, and humble, willing and able, And carved before his father at the table.
A KNIGHT there was and that a worthy man That from the timè that he first began To riden out, he lovèd chivalry, Truth and honóur, freedom and courtesy. Full worthy was he in his lordè's war, And thereto had he ridden--no man farre As well in Christendom as Heatheness And ever honoured for his worthiness.
A COOK they haddè with them for the nones To boil the chickens and the marrow bones And powder merchant tart, and galingale. Well could he know a draught of London ale. He couldè roast and seeth and broil and fry Make mortrews and well bake a pie.
A SUMMONER was there with us in that place That had a fire-red cherubinnè's face,cherub's For saucèfleme he was with eyen narrow. And hot he was and lecherous as a sparrow With scalèd browès black, and pilèd beard, Of his viságè children were afeared.
With him there rode a gentle PARDONER Of Rouncival, his friend and his compeer That straight was comèn from the court of Rome. Full loud he sang "Come hither love to me." This Summoner bore to him a stiff burdoun. Was never trump of half so great a sound. This pardoner had hair as yellow as wax But smooth it hung as does a strike of flax. By ounces hung his lockès that he had, And therewith he his shoulders overspread. But thin it lay, by colpons, one by one, But hood, for jollity, wearèd he none, For it was trussèd up in his wallet: Him thought he rode all of the newè jet, Dishevelled; save his cap he rode all bare. Such glaring eyen had he as a hare.
A good WIFE was there of besidè Bath But she was somedeal deaf, and that was scath. Of clothmaking she haddè such a haunt She passèd them of Ypres and of Gaunt. In all the parish, wife ne was there none That to the offering before her shouldè gon. And if there did, certain so wroth was she That she was out of allè charity. Her coverchiefs full finè were of ground; I durstè swear they weighèdèn ten pound That on a Sunday were upon her head. Her hosèn werèn of fine scarlet red her stockings Full straight y-tied, and shoes full moist and new. Bold was her face and fair and red of hue. She was a worthy woman all her life.
Questions: 1 What kind of a person was the knight? Does Chaucer use satire here? 2 what is wrong with the summoner? Is he liked? 3 What does Chaucer's description of the pardoner tell about the character?
4 Of these characters, which of them has the sharpest sarcasm and why?
1
When April with his showers sweet with fruit
2
The drought of March has pierced unto the root
3
And bathed each vein with liquor that has power
4
To generate therein and sire the flower;
5
When Zephyr also has, with his sweet breath,
6
Quickened again, in every holt and heath,
7
The tender shoots and buds, and the young sun
8
Into the Ram one half his course has run,
9
And many little birds make melody
10
That sleep through all the night with open eye
11
(So Nature pricks them on to ramp and rage)-
12
Then do folk long to go on pilgrimage,
13
And palmers to go seeking out strange strands,
14
To distant shrines well known in sundry lands.
15
And specially from every shire's end
16
Of England they to Canterbury wend,
17
The holy blessed martyr there to seek
18
Who helped them when they lay so ill and weal
19
Befell that, in that season, on a day
20
In Southwark, at the Tabard, as I lay
21
Ready to start upon my pilgrimage
22
To Canterbury, full of devout homage,
23
There came at nightfall to that hostelry
24
Some nine and twenty in a company
25
Of sundry persons who had chanced to fall
26
In fellowship, and pilgrims were they all
27
That toward Canterbury town would ride.
28
The rooms and stables spacious were and wide,
29
And well we there were eased, and of the best.
30
And briefly, when the sun had gone to rest,
31
So had I spoken with them, every one,
32
That I was of their fellowship anon,
33
And made agreement that we'd early rise
34
To take the road, as you I will apprise.
35
But none the less, whilst I have time and space,
36
Before yet farther in this tale I pace,
37
It seems to me accordant with reason
38
To inform you of the state of every one
39
Of all of these, as it appeared to me,
40
And who they were, and what was their degree,
41
And even how arrayed there at the inn;
42
And with aknight thus will I first begin.
43
A knight there was, and he a worthy man,
44
Who, from the moment that he first began
45
To ride about the world, loved chivalry,
46
Truth, honour, freedom and all courtesy.
47
Full worthy was he in his liege-lord's war,
48
And therein had he ridden (none more far)
49
As well in Christendom as heathenesse,
50
And honoured everywhere for worthiness.
51
At Alexandria, he, when it was won;
52
Full oft the table's roster he'd begun
53
Above all nations' knights in Prussia.
54
In Latvia raided he, and Russia,
55
No christened man so oft of his degree.
56
In far Granada at the siege was he
57
Of Algeciras, and in Belmarie.
58
At Ayas was he and at Satalye
59
When they were won; and on the Middle Sea
60
At many a noble meeting chanced to be.
61
Of mortal battles he had fought fifteen,
62
And he'd fought for our faith at Tramissene
63
Three times in lists, and each time slain his foe.
64
This self-same worthy knight had been also
65
At one time with the lord of Palatye
66
Against another heathen in Turkey:
67
And always won he sovereign fame for prize.
68
Though so illustrious, he was very wise
69
And bore himself as meekly as a maid.
70
He never yet had any vileness said,
71
In all his life, to whatsoever wight.
72
He was a truly perfect, gentle knight.
73
But now, to tell you all of his array,
74
His steeds were good, but yet he was not gay.
75
Of simple fustian wore he a jupon
76
Sadly discoloured by his habergeon;
77
For he had lately come from his voyage
78
And now was going on this pilgrimage.
79
With him there was his son, a youthful squire,
80
A lover and a lusty bachelor,
81
With locks well curled, as if they'd laid in press.
82
Some twenty years of age he was, I guess.
83
In stature he was of an average length,
84
Wondrously active, aye, and great of strength.
85
He'd ridden sometime with the cavalry
86
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardy,
87
And borne him well within that little space
88
In hope to win thereby his lady's grace.
89
Prinked out he was, as if he were a mead,
90
All full of fresh-cut flowers white and red.
91
Singing he was, or fluting, all the day;
92
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
93
Short was his gown, with sleeves both long and wide.
94
Well could be sit on horse, and fairly ride.
95
He could make songs and words thereto indite,
96
Joust, and dance too, as well as sketch and write.
97
So hot he loved that, while night told her tale,
98
He slept no more than does a nightingale.
99
Courteous he, and humble, willing and able,
100
And carved before his father at the table.
101
A yeoman had he, nor more servants, no,
102
At that time, for he chose to travel so;
103
And he was clad in coat and hood of green.
104
A sheaf of peacock arrows bright and keen
105
Under his belt he bore right carefully
106
(Well could he keep his tackle yeomanly:
107
His arrows had no draggled feathers low),
108
And in his hand he bore a mighty bow.
109
A cropped head had he and a sun-browned face.
110
Of woodcraft knew he all the useful ways.
111
Upon his arm he bore a bracer gay,
112
And at one side a sword and buckler, yea,
113
And at the other side a dagger bright,
114
Well sheathed and sharp as spear point in the light;
115
On breast a Christopher of silver sheen.
116
He bore a horn in baldric all of green;
117
A forester he truly was, I guess.
118
There was also a nun, a prioress,
119
Who, in her smiling, modest was and coy;
120
Her greatest oath was but By Saint Eloy!
121
And she was known as Madam Eglantine.
122
Full well she sang the services divine,
123
Intoning through her nose, becomingly;
124
And fair she spoke her French, and fluently,
125
After the school of Stratford-at-the-Bow,
126
For French of Paris was not hers to know.
127
At table she had been well taught withal,
128
And never from her lips let morsels fall,
129
Nor dipped her fingers deep in sauce, but ate
130
With so much care the food upon her plate
131
That never driblet fell upon her breast.
132
In courtesy she had delight and zest.
133
Her upper lip was always wiped so clean
134
That in her cup was no iota seen
135
Of grease, when she had drunk her draught of wine.
136
Becomingly she reached for meat to dine.
137
And certainly delighting in good sport,
138
She was right pleasant, amiable- in short.
139
She was at pains to counterfeit the look
140
Of courtliness, and stately manners took,
141
And would be held worthy of reverence.
142
But, to say something of her moral sense,
143
She was so charitable and piteous
144
That she would weep if she but saw a mouse
145
Caught in a trap, though it were dead or bled.
146
She had some little dogs, too, that she fed
147
On roasted flesh, or milk and fine white bread.
148
But sore she'd weep if one of them were dead,
149
Or if men smote it with a rod to smart:
150
For pity ruled her, and her tender heart.
151
Right decorous her pleated wimple was;
152
Her nose was fine; her eyes were blue as glass;
153
Her mouth was small and therewith soft and red;
154
But certainly she had a fair forehead;
155
It was almost a full span broad, I own,
156
For, truth to tell, she was not undergrown.
157
Neat was her cloak, as I was well aware.
158
Of coral small about her arm she'd bear
159
A string of beads and gauded all with green;
160
And therefrom hung a brooch of golden sheen
161
Whereon there was first written a crowned A,
162
And under, Amor vincit omnia.
163
Another little nun with her had she,
164
Who was her chaplain; and of priests she'd three.
165
A monk there was, one made for mastery,
166
An outrider, who loved his venery;
167
A manly man, to be an abbot able.
168
Full many a blooded horse had he in stable:
169
And when he rode men might his bridle hear
170
A-jingling in the whistling wind as clear,
171
Aye, and as loud as does the chapel bell
172
Where this brave monk was of the cell.
173
The rule of Maurus or Saint Benedict,
174
By reason it was old and somewhat strict,
175
This said monk let such old things slowly pace
176
And followed new-world manners in their place.
177
He cared not for that text a clean-plucked hen
178
Which holds that hunters are not holy men;
179
Nor that a monk, when he is cloisterless,
180
Is like unto a fish that's waterless;
181
That is to say, a monk out of his cloister.
182
But this same text he held not worth an oyster;
183
And I said his opinion was right good.
184
What? Should he study as a madman would
185
Upon a book in cloister cell? Or yet
186
Go labour with his hands and swink and sweat,
187
As Austin bids? How shall the world be served?
188
Let Austin have his toil to him reserved.
189
Therefore he was a rider day and night;
190
Greyhounds he had, as swift as bird in flight.
191
Since riding and the hunting of the hare
192
Were all his love, for no cost would he spare.
193
I saw his sleeves were purfled at the hand
194
With fur of grey, the finest in the land;
195
Also, to fasten hood beneath his chin,
196
He had of good wrought gold a curious pin:
197
A love-knot in the larger end there was.
198
His head was bald and shone like any glass,
199
And smooth as one anointed was his face.
200
Fat was this lord, he stood in goodly case.
201
His bulging eyes he rolled about, and hot
202
They gleamed and red, like fire beneath a pot;
203
His boots were soft; his horse of great estate.
204
Now certainly he was a fine prelate:
205
He was not pale as some poor wasted ghost.
206
A fat swan loved he best of any roast.
207
His palfrey was as brown as is a berry.
208
A friar there was, a wanton and a merry,
209
A limiter, a very festive man.
210
In all the Orders Four is none that can
211
Equal his gossip and his fair language.
212
He had arranged full many a marriage
213
Of women young, and this at his own cost.
214
Unto his order he was a noble post.
215
Well liked by all and intimate was he
216
With franklins everywhere in his country,
217
And with the worthy women of the town:
218
For at confessing he'd more power in gown
219
(As he himself said) than it good curate,
220
For of his order he was licentiate.
221
He heard confession gently, it was said,
222
Gently absolved too, leaving naught of dread.
223
He was an easy man to give penance
224
When knowing he should gain a good pittance;
225
For to a begging friar, money given
226
Is sign that any man has been well shriven.
227
For if one gave (he dared to boast of this),
228
He took the man's repentance not amiss.
229
For many a man there is so hard of heart
230
He cannot weep however pains may smart.
231
Therefore, instead of weeping and of prayer,
232
Men should give silver to poor friars all bare.
233
His tippet was stuck always full of knives
234
And pins, to give to young and pleasing wives.
235
And certainly he kept a merry note:
236
Well could he sing and play upon the rote.
237
At balladry he bore the prize away.
238
His throat was white as lily of the May;
239
Yet strong he was as ever champion.
240
In towns he knew the taverns, every one,
241
And every good host and each barmaid too-
242
Better than begging lepers, these he knew.
243
For unto no such solid man as he
244
Accorded it, as far as he could see,
245
To have sick lepers for acquaintances.
246
There is no honest advantageousness
247
In dealing with such poverty-stricken curs;
248
It's with the rich and with big victuallers.
249
And so, wherever profit might arise,
250
Courteous he was and humble in men's eyes.
251
There was no other man so virtuous.
252
He was the finest beggar of his house;
253
A certain district being farmed to him,
254
None of his brethren dared approach its rim;
255
For though a widow had no shoes to show,
256
So pleasant was his In principio,
257
He always got a farthing ere he went.
258
He lived by pickings, it is evident.
259
And he could romp as well as any whelp.
260
On love days could he be of mickle help.
261
For there he was not like a cloisterer,
262
With threadbare cope as is the poor scholar,
263
But he was like a lord or like a pope.
264
Of double worsted was his semi-cope,
265
That rounded like a bell, as you may guess.
266
He lisped a little, out of wantonness,
267
To make his English soft upon his tongue;
268
And in his harping, after he had sung,
269
His two eyes twinkled in his head as bright
270
As do the stars within the frosty night.
271
This worthy limiter was named Hubert.
272
There was a merchant with forked beard, and girt
273
In motley gown, and high on horse he sat,
274
Upon his head a Flemish beaver hat;
275
His boots were fastened rather elegantly.
276
His spoke his notions out right pompously,
277
Stressing the times when he had won, not lost.
278
He would the sea were held at any cost
279
Across from Middleburgh to Orwell town.
280
At money-changing he could make a crown.
281
This worthy man kept all his wits well set;
282
There was no one could say he was in debt,
283
So well he governed all his trade affairs
284
With bargains and with borrowings and with shares.
285
Indeed, he was a worthy man withal,
286
But, sooth to say, his name I can't recall.
287
A clerk from Oxford was with us also,
288
Who'd turned to getting knowledge, long ago.
289
As meagre was his horse as is a rake,
290
Nor he himself too fat, I'll undertake,
291
But he looked hollow and went soberly.
292
Right threadbare was his overcoat; for he
293
Had got him yet no churchly benefice,
294
Nor was so worldly as to gain office.
295
For he would rather have at his bed's head
296
Some twenty books, all bound in black and red,
297
Of Aristotle and his philosophy
298
Than rich robes, fiddle, or gay psaltery.
299
Yet, and for all he was philosopher,
300
He had but little gold within his coffer;
301
But all that he might borrow from a friend
302
On books and learning he would swiftly spend,
303
And then he'd pray right busily for the souls
304
Of those who gave him wherewithal for schools.
305
Of study took he utmost care and heed.
306
Not one word spoke he more than was his need;
307
And that was said in fullest reverence
308
And short and quick and full of high good sense.
309
Pregnant of moral virtue was his speech;
310
And gladly would he learn and gladly teach.
311
A sergeant of the law, wary and wise,
312
Who'd often gone to Paul's walk to advise,
313
There was also, compact of excellence.
314
Discreet he was, and of great reverence;
315
At least he seemed so, his words were so wise.
316
Often he sat as justice in assize,
317
By patent or commission from the crown;
318
Because of learning and his high renown,
319
He took large fees and many robes could own.
320
So great a purchaser was never known.
321
All was fee simple to him, in effect,
322
Wherefore his claims could never be suspect.
323
Nowhere a man so busy of his class,
324
And yet he seemed much busier than he was.
325
All cases and all judgments could he cite
326
That from King William's time were apposite.
327
And he could draw a contract so explicit
328
Not any man could fault therefrom elicit;
329
And every statute he'd verbatim quote.
330
He rode but badly in a medley coat,
331
Belted in a silken sash, with little bars,
332
But of his dress no more particulars.
333
There was a franklin in his company;
334
White was his beard as is the white daisy.
335
Of sanguine temperament by every sign,
336
He loved right well his morning sop in wine.
337
Delightful living was the goal he'd won,
338
For he was Epicurus' very son,
339
That held opinion that a full delight
340
Was true felicity, perfect and right.
341
A householder, and that a great, was he;
342
Saint Julian he was in his own country.
343
His bread and ale were always right well done;
344
A man with better cellars there was none.
345
Baked meat was never wanting in his house,
346
Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous
347
It seemed to snow therein both food and drink
348
Of every dainty that a man could think.
349
According to the season of the year
350
He changed his diet and his means of cheer.
351
Full many a fattened partridge did he mew,
352
And many a bream and pike in fish-pond too.
353
Woe to his cook, except the sauces were
354
Poignant and sharp, and ready all his gear.
355
His table, waiting in his hall alway,
356
Stood ready covered through the livelong day.
357
At county sessions was he lord and sire,
358
And often acted as a knight of shire.
359
A dagger and a trinket-bag of silk
360
Hung from his girdle, white as morning milk.
361
He had been sheriff and been auditor;
362
And nowhere was a worthier vavasor.
363
A haberdasher and a carpenter,
364
An arras-maker, dyer, and weaver
365
Were with us, clothed in similar livery,
366
All of one sober, great fraternity.
367
Their gear was new and well adorned it was;
368
Their weapons were not cheaply trimmed with brass,
369
But all with silver; chastely made and well
370
Their girdles and their pouches too, I tell.
371
Each man of them appeared a proper burges
372
To sit in guildhall on a high dais.
373
And each of them, for wisdom he could span,
374
Was fitted to have been an alderman;
375
For chattels they'd enough, and, too, of rent;
376
To which their goodwives gave a free assent,
377
Or else for certain they had been to blame.
378
It's good to hear Madam before one's name,
379
And go to church when all the world may see,
380
Having one's mantle borne right royally.
381
A cook they had with them, just for the nonce,
382
To boil the chickens with the marrow-bones,
383
And flavour tartly and with galingale.
384
Well could he tell a draught of London ale.
385
And he could roast and seethe and broil and fry,
386
And make a good thick soup, and bake a pie.
387
But very ill it was, it seemed to me,
388
That on his shin a deadly sore had he;
389
For sweet blanc-mange, he made it with the best.
390
There was a sailor, living far out west;
391
For aught I know, he was of Dartmouth town.
392
He sadly rode a hackney, in a gown,
393
Of thick rough cloth falling to the knee.
394
A dagger hanging on a cord had he
395
About his neck, and under arm, and down.
396
The summer's heat had burned his visage brown;
397
And certainly he was a good fellow.
398
Full many a draught of wine he'd drawn, I trow,
399
Of Bordeaux vintage, while the trader slept.
400
Nice conscience was a thing he never kept.
401
If that he fought and got the upper hand,
402
By water he sent them home to every land.
403
But as for craft, to reckon well his tides,
404
His currents and the dangerous watersides,
405
His harbours, and his moon, his pilotage,
406
There was none such from Hull to far Carthage.
407
Hardy. and wise in all things undertaken,
408
By many a tempest had his beard been shaken.
409
He knew well all the havens, as they were,
410
From Gottland to the Cape of Finisterre,
411
And every creek in Brittany and Spain;
412
His vessel had been christened Madeleine.
413
With us there was a doctor of physic;
414
In all this world was none like him to pick
415
For talk of medicine and surgery;
416
For he was grounded in astronomy.
417
He often kept a patient from the pall
418
By horoscopes and magic natural.
419
Well could he tell the fortune ascendent
420
Within the houses for his sick patient.
421
He knew the cause of every malady,
422
Were it of hot or cold, of moist or dry,
423
And where engendered, and of what humour;
424
He was a very good practitioner.
425
The cause being known, down to the deepest root,
426
Anon he gave to the sick man his boot.
427
Ready he was, with his apothecaries,
428
To send him drugs and all electuaries;
429
By mutual aid much gold they'd always won-
430
Their friendship was a thing not new begun.
431
Well read was he in Esculapius,
432
And Deiscorides, and in Rufus,
433
Hippocrates, and Hali, and Galen,
434
Serapion, Rhazes, and Avicen,
435
Averrhoes, Gilbert, and Constantine,
436
Bernard and Gatisden, and John Damascene.
437
In diet he was measured as could be,
438
Including naught of superfluity,
439
But nourishing and easy. It's no libel
440
To say he read but little in the Bible.
441
In blue and scarlet he went clad, withal,
442
Lined with a taffeta and with sendal;
443
And yet he was right chary of expense;
444
He kept the gold he gained from pestilence.
445
For gold in physic is a fine cordial,
446
And therefore loved he gold exceeding all.
447
There was a housewife come from Bath, or near,
448
Who- sad to say- was deaf in either ear.
449
At making cloth she had so great a bent
450
She bettered those of Ypres and even of Ghent.
451
In all the parish there was no goodwife
452
Should offering make before her, on my life;
453
And if one did, indeed, so wroth was she
454
It put her out of all her charity.
455
Her kerchiefs were of finest weave and ground;
456
I dare swear that they weighed a full ten pound
457
Which, of a Sunday, she wore on her head.
458
Her hose were of the choicest scarlet red,
459
Close gartered, and her shoes were soft and new.
460
Bold was her face, and fair, and red of hue.
461
She'd been respectable throughout her life,
462
With five churched husbands bringing joy and strife,
463
Not counting other company in youth;
464
But thereof there's no need to speak, in truth.
465
Three times she'd journeyed to Jerusalem;
466
And many a foreign stream she'd had to stem;
467
At Rome she'd been, and she'd been in Boulogne,
468
In Spain at Santiago, and at Cologne.
469
She could tell much of wandering by the way:
470
Gap-toothed was she, it is no lie to say.
471
Upon an ambler easily she sat,
472
Well wimpled, aye, and over all a hat
473
As broad as is a buckler or a targe;
474
A rug was tucked around her buttocks large,
475
And on her feet a pair of sharpened spurs.
476
In company well could she laugh her slurs.
477
The remedies of love she knew, perchance,
478
For of that art she'd learned the old, old dance.
479
There was a good man of religion, too,
480
A country parson, poor, I warrant you;
481
But rich he was in holy thought and work.
482
He was a learned man also, a clerk,
483
Who Christ's own gospel truly sought to preach;
484
Devoutly his parishioners would he teach.
485
Benign he was and wondrous diligent,
486
Patient in adverse times and well content,
487
As he was ofttimes proven; always blithe,
488
He was right loath to curse to get a tithe,
489
But rather would he give, in case of doubt,
490
Unto those poor parishioners about,
491
Part of his income, even of his goods.
492
Enough with little, coloured all his moods.
493
Wide was his parish, houses far asunder,
494
But never did he fail, for rain or thunder,
495
In sickness, or in sin, or any state,
496
To visit to the farthest, small and great,
497
Going afoot, and in his hand, a stave.
498
This fine example to his flock he gave,
499
That first he wrought and afterwards he taught;
500
Out of the gospel then that text he caught,
501
And this figure he added thereunto-
502
That, if gold rust, what shall poor iron do?
503
For if the priest be foul, in whom we trust,
504
What wonder if a layman yield to lust?
505
And shame it is, if priest take thought for keep,
506
A shitty shepherd, shepherding clean sheep.
507
Well ought a priest example good to give,
508
By his own cleanness, how his flock should live.
509
He never let his benefice for hire,
510
Leaving his flock to flounder in the mire,
511
And ran to London, up to old Saint Paul's
512
To get himself a chantry there for souls,
513
Nor in some brotherhood did he withhold;
514
But dwelt at home and kept so well the fold
515
That never wolf could make his plans miscarry;
516
He was a shepherd and not mercenary.
517
And holy though he was, and virtuous,
518
To sinners he was not impiteous,
519
Nor haughty in his speech, nor too divine,
520
But in all teaching prudent and benign.
521
To lead folk into Heaven but by stress
522
Of good example was his busyness.
523
But if some sinful one proved obstinate,
524
Be who it might, of high or low estate,
525
Him he reproved, and sharply, as I know.
526
There is nowhere a better priest, I trow.
527
He had no thirst for pomp or reverence,
528
Nor made himself a special, spiced conscience,
529
But Christ's own lore, and His apostles' twelve
530
He taught, but first he followed it himselve.
531
With him there was a plowman, was his brother,
532
That many a load of dung, and many another
533
Had scattered, for a good true toiler, he,
534
Living in peace and perfect charity.
535
He loved God most, and that with his whole heart
536
At all times, though he played or plied his art,
537
And next, his neighbour, even as himself.
538
He'd thresh and dig, with never thought of pelf,
539
For Christ's own sake, for every poor wight,
540
All without pay, if it lay in his might.
541
He paid his taxes, fully, fairly, well,
542
Both by his own toil and by stuff he'd sell.
543
In a tabard he rode upon a mare.
544
There were also a reeve and miller there;
545
A summoner, manciple and pardoner,
546
And these, beside myself, made all there were.
547
The miller was a stout churl, be it known,
548
Hardy and big of brawn and big of bone;
549
Which was well proved, for when he went on lam
550
At wrestling, never failed he of the ram.
551
He was a chunky fellow, broad of build;
552
He'd heave a door from hinges if he willed,
553
Or break it through, by running, with his head.
554
His beard, as any sow or fox, was red,
555
And broad it was as if it were a spade.
556
Upon the coping of his nose he had
557
A wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs,
558
Red as the bristles in an old sow's ears;
559
His nostrils they were black and very wide.
560
A sword and buckler bore he by his side.
561
His mouth was like a furnace door for size.
562
He was a jester and could poetize,
563
But mostly all of sin and ribaldries.
564
He could steal corn and full thrice charge his fees;
565
And yet he had a thumb of gold, begad.
566
A white coat and blue hood he wore, this lad.
567
A bagpipe he could blow well, be it known,
568
And with that same he brought us out of town.
569
There was a manciple from an inn of court,
570
To whom all buyers might quite well resort
571
To learn the art of buying food and drink;
572
For whether he paid cash or not, I think
573
That he so knew the markets, when to buy,
574
He never found himself left high and dry.
575
Now is it not of God a full fair grace
576
That such a vulgar man has wit to pace
577
The wisdom of a crowd of learned men?
578
Of masters had he more than three times ten,
579
Who were in law expert and curious;
580
Whereof there were a dozen in that house
581
Fit to be stewards of both rent and land
582
Of any lord in England who would stand
583
Upon his own and live in manner good,
584
In honour, debtless (save his head were wood),
585
Or live as frugally as he might desire;
586
These men were able to have helped a shire
587
In any case that ever might befall;
588
And yet this manciple outguessed them all.
589
The reeve he was a slender, choleric man
590
Who shaved his beard as close as razor can.
591
His hair was cut round even with his ears;
592
His top was tonsured like a pulpiteer's.
593
Long were his legs, and they were very lean,
594
And like a staff, with no calf to be seen.
595
Well could he manage granary and bin;
596
No auditor could ever on him win.
597
He could foretell, by drought and by the rain,
598
The yielding of his seed and of his grain.
599
His lord's sheep and his oxen and his dairy,
600
His swine and horses, all his stores, his poultry,
601
Were wholly in this steward's managing;
602
And, by agreement, he'd made reckoning
603
Since his young lord of age was twenty years;
604
Yet no man ever found him in arrears.
605
There was no agent, hind, or herd who'd cheat
606
But he knew well his cunning and deceit;
607
They were afraid of him as of the death.
608
His cottage was a good one, on a heath;
609
By green trees shaded with this dwelling-place.
610
Much better than his lord could he purchase.
611
Right rich he was in his own private right,
612
Seeing he'd pleased his lord, by day or night,
613
By giving him, or lending, of his goods,
614
And so got thanked- but yet got coats and hoods.
615
In youth he'd learned a good trade, and had been
616
A carpenter, as fine as could be seen.
617
This steward sat a horse that well could trot,
618
And was all dapple-grey, and was named Scot.
619
A long surcoat of blue did he parade,
620
And at his side he bore a rusty blade.
621
Of Norfolk was this reeve of whom I tell,
622
From near a town that men call Badeswell.
623
Bundled he was like friar from chin to croup,
624
And ever he rode hindmost of our troop.
625
A summoner was with us in that place,
626
Who had a fiery-red, cherubic face,
627
For eczema he had; his eyes were narrow
628
As hot he was, and lecherous, as a sparrow;
629
With black and scabby brows and scanty beard;
630
He had a face that little children feared.
631
There was no mercury, sulphur, or litharge,
632
No borax, ceruse, tartar, could discharge,
633
Nor ointment that could cleanse enough, or bite,
634
To free him of his boils and pimples white,
635
Nor of the bosses resting on his cheeks.
636
Well loved he garlic, onions, aye and leeks,
637
And drinking of strong wine as red as blood.
638
Then would he talk and shout as madman would.
639
And when a deal of wine he'd poured within,
640
Then would. he utter no word save Latin.
641
Some phrases had he learned, say two or three,
642
Which he had garnered out of some decree;
643
No wonder, for he'd heard it all the day;
644
And all you know right well that even a jay
645
Can call out Wat as well as can the pope.
646
But when, for aught else, into him you'd grope,
647
'Twas found he'd spent his whole philosophy;
648
Just Questio quid juris would he cry.
649
He was a noble rascal, and a kind;
650
A better comrade 'twould be hard to find.
651
Why, he would suffer, for a quart of wine,
652
Some good fellow to have his concubine
653
A twelve-month, and excuse him to the full
654
(Between ourselves, though, he could pluck a gull).
655
And if he chanced upon a good fellow,
656
He would instruct him never to have awe,
657
In such a case, of the archdeacon's curse,
658
Except a man's soul lie within his purse;
659
For in his purse the man should punished be.
660
The purse is the archdeacon's Hell, said he.
661
But well I know he lied in what he said;
662
A curse ought every guilty man to dread
663
(For curse can kill, as absolution save),
664
And 'ware significavit to the grave.
665
In his own power had he, and at ease,
666
The boys and girls of all the diocese,
667
And knew their secrets, and by counsel led.
668
A garland had he set upon his head,
669
Large as a tavern's wine-bush on a stake;
670
A buckler had he made of bread they bake.
671
With him there rode a gentle pardoner
672
Of Rouncival, his friend and his compeer;
673
Straight from the court of Rome had journeyed he.
674
Loudly he sang Come hither, love, to me,
675
The summoner joining with a burden round;
676
Was never horn of half so great a sound.
677
This pardoner had hair as yellow as wax,
678
But lank it hung as does a strike of flax;
679
In wisps hung down such locks as he'd on head,
680
And with them he his shoulders overspread;
681
But thin they dropped, and stringy, one by one.
682
But as to hood, for sport of it, he'd none,
683
Though it was packed in wallet all the while.
684
It seemed to him he went in latest style,
685
Dishevelled, save for cap, his head all bare.
686
As shiny eyes he had as has a hare.
687
He had a fine veronica sewed to cap.
688
His wallet lay before him in his lap,
689
Stuffed full of pardons brought from Rome all hot.
690
A voice he had that bleated like a goat.
691
No beard had he, nor ever should he have,
692
For smooth his face as he'd just had a shave;
693
I think he was a gelding or a mare.
694
But in his craft, from Berwick unto Ware,
695
Was no such pardoner in any place.
696
For in his bag he had a pillowcase
697
The which, he said, was Our True Lady's veil:
698
He said he had a piece of the very sail
699
That good Saint Peter had, what time he went
700
Upon the sea, till Jesus changed his bent.
701
He had a latten cross set full of stones,
702
And in a bottle had he some pig's bones.
703
But with these relics, when he came upon
704
Some simple parson, then this paragon
705
In that one day more money stood to gain
706
Than the poor dupe in two months could attain.
707
And thus, with flattery and suchlike japes,
708
He made the parson and the rest his apes.
709
But yet, to tell the whole truth at the last,
710
He was, in church, a fine ecclesiast.
711
Well could he read a lesson or a story,
712
But best of all he sang an offertory;
713
For well he knew that when that song was sung,
714
Then might he preach, and all with polished tongue.
Home
CP Brit Home
CP Brit Poetry
Geoffrey Chaucer
The Squire
With him there was his son, a youthful squire,
A lover and a lusty bachelor,With locks well curled, as if they’d laid in press.
Some twenty years of age he was, I guess.
In stature he was of an average length,(5)
Wondrously active, aye, and great of strength.
He’d ridden sometime with the cavalry
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardy,
And borne him well within that little space
In hope to win thereby his lady’s grace.
Embroidered was he, like a meadow bed
All full of freshest flowers, white and red.
Singing he was, or fluting, all the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Short was his gown, with sleeves both long and wide.
Well could he sit on horse, and fairly ride.
He could make songs and words thereto indite,
Joust, and dance too, as well as sketch and write.
So hot he loved that, while night told her tale,
He slept no more than does a nightingale.
Courteous he, and humble, willing and able,
And carved before his father at the table.
A KNIGHT there was and that a worthy man
That from the timè that he first began
To riden out, he lovèd chivalry,
Truth and honóur, freedom and courtesy.
Full worthy was he in his lordè's war,
And thereto had he ridden--no man farre
As well in Christendom as Heatheness
And ever honoured for his worthiness.
A COOK they haddè with them for the nones
To boil the chickens and the marrow bones
And powder merchant tart, and galingale.
Well could he know a draught of London ale.
He couldè roast and seeth and broil and fry
Make mortrews and well bake a pie.
A SUMMONER was there with us in that place
That had a fire-red cherubinnè's face,cherub's
For saucèfleme he was with eyen narrow.
And hot he was and lecherous as a sparrow
With scalèd browès black, and pilèd beard,
Of his viságè children were afeared.
With him there rode a gentle PARDONER
Of Rouncival, his friend and his compeer
That straight was comèn from the court of Rome.
Full loud he sang "Come hither love to me."
This Summoner bore to him a stiff burdoun.
Was never trump of half so great a sound.
This pardoner had hair as yellow as wax
But smooth it hung as does a strike of flax.
By ounces hung his lockès that he had,
And therewith he his shoulders overspread.
But thin it lay, by colpons, one by one,
But hood, for jollity, wearèd he none,
For it was trussèd up in his wallet:
Him thought he rode all of the newè jet,
Dishevelled; save his cap he rode all bare.
Such glaring eyen had he as a hare.
A good WIFE was there of besidè Bath
But she was somedeal deaf, and that was scath.
Of clothmaking she haddè such a haunt
She passèd them of Ypres and of Gaunt.
In all the parish, wife ne was there none
That to the offering before her shouldè gon.
And if there did, certain so wroth was she
That she was out of allè charity.
Her coverchiefs full finè were of ground;
I durstè swear they weighèdèn ten pound
That on a Sunday were upon her head.
Her hosèn werèn of fine scarlet red her stockings
Full straight y-tied, and shoes full moist and new.
Bold was her face and fair and red of hue.
She was a worthy woman all her life.
Questions:
1 What kind of a person was the knight? Does Chaucer use satire here?
2 what is wrong with the summoner? Is he liked?
3 What does Chaucer's description of the pardoner tell about the character?
4 Of these characters, which of them has the sharpest sarcasm and why?